Eight Years Later
by come-along-toto
Summary: The Wicked Witch of the West has mysteriously risen to power once more. How can this be? When the Scarecrow is captured by a band of winged monkeys, all hope seems lost. He manages to pull free of their grasp, but ends up tangled up in a tree in the Witch's territory! Who is this mysterious newcomer? And will he ever see Dorothy again?


**Author's note: This is my first fic. I'm warning you now, it is going to be very long. I have it mostly planned out. I've written scenes here and there, but I need to fill in the gaps! I'll try to update this as frequently as possible. Please review and tell me what you think!**

The Scarecrow felt despondent and lonely. How could he hope to be rescued? No one knew where he was, whether he was alive, and certainly no one would ever wander around in the mountains, especially in enemy territory. A few days passed and he stopped struggling; he was really stuck.

He thought his mind was playing tricks on him when he spotted a red shape moving through the trees. It was a little girl and the red color was the color of her clothing. She was only eight or nine, and she had white-blonde hair and pale eyes. She wandered hesitantly beneath him, but she did not notice him. He opened his mouth to call to her, but was interrupted by the sound of winged monkeys.

The girl was paralyzed with fear and she huddled in the open embrace of two roots nearby. After the noise had faded into the distance, the girl allowed herself to cry. He noticed she was holding a china doll against her chest. Obviously she was as lost and alone as he was. This display of raw emotion moved him deeply. Girls oughtn't ever have cause to shed their tears.

"Don't cry," he said to her.

The child gasped, dropped the doll, and scrambled to her feet, slowly turning to peer up at him. She was ashamed. He smiled at her, but she said nothing, only staring.

"Are you hurt?" he asked.

After a moment, she shook her head. "I'm lost," she said.

"I'm afraid I'm lost, too," he said.

"Are you caught there?" she asked after a moment.

"Oh, yes," he said.

She removed her coat. Beneath her coat she had on a white frock and white cotton pinafore, which immediately struck him as odd. He had assumed that she was from the land of the Quadlings, where red was the favorite color.

She began to climb the tree. It was difficult work, as there were no low-hanging boughs. When she reached him, she gasped and was so startled that she nearly fell.

"What's the matter?" he asked.

"You're-not human...!"

"Don't be frightened!" he said gently. "I'm a scarecrow."

"Oh," she said, her breathing a little erratic.

She began snapping the twigs imprisoning him. She moved her fingers thoughtfully and was soon able to pull him free. However, she lost her balance and he slipped out of her grasp. She cried out and hurried down to him.

"You're hurt!" she breathed, seeing the straw that had fallen from his chest.

"No, I'm perfect! You see?" He picked up the straw and replaced it.

"Can't you feel that?" She moved her hand toward her heart, aghast.

"I feel nothing at all," the Scarecrow replied.

Hesitantly, she sat down next to him and touched his arm, her eyes flicking up at his face. "You... You can't feel my hand?"

He shook his head cheerfully. "What's your name?" he asked.

"Elle."

"Where did you come from?"

"Why, Kansas."

He had about a hundred other questions, but they heard the terrible monkeys again. They got up quickly and the Scarecrow seized her doll and her coat. They ran and hurried along until they felt safe enough to stop for a moment.

"How did you come here?" He handed the doll to her.

She took the doll gratefully and explained that there was suddenly a great flood and it swallowed her up. She thought she had drowned, but woke up in a pond on this mountain.

"Do you know Dorothy Gale?" he asked eagerly.

"No."

He explained that some years ago, another little girl had come from Kansas; she had used some magic shoes to go home. But the shoes fell off of her feet and were found by one of the Witch's henchmen. The winged creature used the shoes to bring the Witch back to power. Now the Witch was seeking revenge against the Scarecrow and his people. If they were discovered by the Witch, all was lost, so they had to be quiet and careful.

"How awful," she said.

"We'll start for the Emerald City. We'll be safe there," he said in a cheerful voice.

The Scarecrow knew that if they walked downhill long enough, they would almost certainly reach the root of the mountain. They got up and began to walk.

Elle was fascinated by him. He moved just like a person, but occasionally his leg would bend in the wrong place or his foot would twist behind him. He often stumbled, and Elle was obliged to act as a cane and help him regain his footing. Sometimes, she clutched the cloth of his back to balance him. She was pleased to be so useful.

Soon, they came upon terrain that was not flat and therefore difficult to scale. Once, when Elle tripped and began to tumble, she managed to grab hold of a rock and regain her balance. However, in the attempt to save her own life, her doll was thwarted from her arms and its china face shattered into a hundred pieces on its way down. As she watched, the sharp blade of the rock split the flesh across the palm of her hand. She gasped and whipped her hand away. The Scarecrow made his way down carefully to her, lest he tumble down the mountain as well.

"Are you all right?" he cried.

"Yes," she said as he helped her up on top of the boulder.

"Elle! You're bleeding! You're bleeding!"

"It doesn't hurt," she said, quickly tearing a strip of cloth from her apron with shaking hands.

He helped her tie it about her hand.

She seldom spoke for the rest of the day and the Scarecrow thought he caught her grinding her teeth, her temple convulsing. She held his arm tightly. When the two fell silent, he contemplated what pain must feel like. He stiffened when remembered the possibility of infection, horrified. At twilight they made camp and all that night he felt strange; he felt a prickly hole widening inside of him as if his straw were decaying, but in the morning he found himself unhurt.

"I'm thirsty," she said upon awakening.

"And hungry, too?" he asked.

"Yes."

Foraging was eerily familiar to the Scarecrow, as he had done it obsessively, though many years ago, when he was traveling with Dorothy. It wasn't long before he managed to stumble upon a patch of wild strawberries.

"Oh!" Elle cried, beside herself with joy. "Strawberries! There are so many!"

She made a lovely breakfast of the them. Unfortunately, that was the only meal she would have that day. They never found any water.

The next morning, they reached the bottom of the mountain. In the distance, he could see the spires of a grim castle. He didn't have the heart to tell her that they would be heading toward the castle of the Wicked Witch. It was the only way-the only place he was sure there was water, which humans dearly required. He could tell that she needed it badly.

After a few hours of walking, Elle stopped and said, "My stomach hurts. I want to sit down."

"Just a little farther," he said gently.

She walked ten minutes longer.

"Please," she murmured, rubbing her eye. "I feel sick."

A strange dark cloud formed on the horizon, advancing toward them.

"Hurry!" he cried. "We've got to hide!"

"Hide?" she said blandly, her knees buckling.

Trembling, the Scarecrow hesitated before scooping her up and scurrying into the shadows. By the time the monkeys had passed, he was stunned to find her unconscious. A hideous pang of guilt swept through him.


End file.
